The drive home with Ethan had been a brief reprieve, a pocket of safety where the only sound was the low hum of the radio and his steady presence. But as Annie stepped through her front door, the heavy silence of the house pressed in on her.
Dinner was a formal, stifling affair. Her father, Dylan, sat at the head of the table, still in his light blue scrubs, looking exhausted but genuinely happy to see his family gathered.
"So, Annie," Dylan said, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently. "First day back. How was it? Did you get that English elective you wanted?"
"It was okay, Dad," Annie replied, keeping her voice soft and her eyes on her plate. "I did get the class. It seems interesting."
Kyson let out a sharp, derisive snort, jabbing his fork into a piece of steak. He didn't look up, but the tension in his shoulders was palpable. "Must be nice to have so much time to worry about 'interesting' electives. Some of us actually have to focus on things that matter."
Dylan frowned slightly. "Kyson, let's keep it positive. It's the first day."
"I'm just saying," Kyson muttered, his voice tight with the frustration he was forced to bottle up in front of his stepfather. "Somepeople just float through the day while others do the heavy lifting."
Margaret smoothed her napkin with practiced grace, a thin, tight smile on her face that never reached her eyes. She reached out and patted Dylan's arm affectionately. "Now, honey, don't be hard on Kyson. He's just tired from practice. And Annie, dear, I noticed you didn't come home with Kyson today. I hope you weren't a bother to anyone else for a ride. It's so important to be self-reliant, don't you think? Especially with your father working such long shifts at the hospital."
The passive-aggressive hit its mark. Margaret made it sound like Annie was a burden on the world, a drain on her father's precious energy.
"Ethan drove me, Margaret," Annie said quietly.
"Ah, the boy next door," Margaret's smile sharpened. "He's... quite a character. I just worry about the company you keep, Annie. After everything that's happened, a girl in your fragile state needs to be so careful. You shouldn't hang around boys- they'll take advantage of you."
"She's doing justfine, Margaret, not to mention Ethan is Kyson's friend too." Dylan interrupted, his tone firm but loving. He turned back to Annie, his eyes searching hers with a doctor's intuition and a father's heart. "If Ethan's helping you out, I'm glad. He's a good kid. You look a little tired, Annie. Did you eat enough lunch?"
"I did, Dad. Ellie stayed with me."
"Good. That girl has a spark," Dylan chuckled. "Kyson, why don't you help Annie with the dishes tonight? Give her a break since she had a long first day back to school."
Kyson's grip on his knife tightened until his knuckles went white. He looked like he was about to explode, his face flushing a deep, angry red. But he caught Margaret's warning glance- a subtle shake of the head, and forced a jagged, unpleasant smile toward Dylan.
"Sure, Dad," Kyson bit out through clenched teeth. "Whatever you want."
The "clatter" of silverware against porcelain felt like gunfire in the quiet room. Annie looked down at her patchwork dress, feeling the hidden weight of the day- the bruises from Vanessa, the warmth of Ethan's note, and the coldness of the woman sitting across from her.
The moment the swinging door clicked shut behind Dylan, the "helpful son" act vanished. Kyson slammed a plate into the soapy water, splashing Annie's dress.
"What are you doing, Annie?" he hissed, his voice low but vibrating with heat. He turned on her, looming over her small frame. "I see you creeping around with Ethan. My best friend. You think I'm blind?"
"We're just friends, Kyson," Annie whispered, stepping back until she hit the counter.
"Friends don't look at each other like that. And he sure as hell doesn't pick up 'friends' every morning unless he's getting something out of it." Kyson's eyes narrowed, a cruel, suggestive glint taking over. "Is that it? You using what's under that dress to keep him around? Are you sleeping with him? Because if you're messing with his head while you're playing the 'grieving daughter' card, I'll make sure he knows exactly how pathetic you really are."
"Stop it," Annie choked out, her eyes stinging. "It's not like that. He's just being kind."
"Ethan doesn't do 'kind' for nothing," Kyson spat, shoving a wet plate into her hands. "Stay away from him. You're baggage, Annie. Don't drag him down with you."
Annie didn't argue. She couldn't. She finished the dishes in a blur of tears, ignored Margaret's pointed look as she passed the living room, and bolted up the stairs.
Closing her bedroom door, she leaned against the wood, exhaling a breath she felt she'd been holding since dinner began. The room was dark, save for the silver moonlight filtering through the glass. Then, a familiar, rhythmic tap-tap echoed against the pane.
She wiped her eyes hurriedly and pushed the window open.
Ethan was sitting on his windowsill, just a few feet away across the narrow gap between their houses. He was leaned back on his elbows, but the second he saw her face, he bolted upright. The playful smirk he usually wore vanished, replaced by a hard, protective line.
"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone he only used with her. "What happened? Was it Kyson?"
Annie shook her her head, trying to offer a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Just a long day. I didn't think you'd be up."
"I'm always up for you, Doll," he murmured, his eyes searching hers, full of a loyalty that made Kyson's accusations feel like a distant, ugly dream. He reached across the gap, his hand resting on her windowsill, inches from hers. "Talk to me. Or don't. I can just sit here until you feel like yourself again."